


The Tomb's Happy Necrosis

by NihilismPastry



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gore, Not for the faint of heart, Undertomb AU, Violence, of a sort, this is not a nice story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 05:13:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12403911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NihilismPastry/pseuds/NihilismPastry
Summary: You're beginning to feel more and more like a grave robber the deeper into this Underground prison you go...The feast has begun, the shadows lurk ever closer, close your eyes innocent one.Time to feast at the Monster's table~!





	The Tomb's Happy Necrosis

**Author's Note:**

> Gore Level: Low

Toriel was probably not the worst way to die, you rationalized. Afterall, she was actually pretty nice most days, baking you pies and fending off the other creatures in her ruins. She was the one to find you in that bed of black flowers, untangling you from the vines, and...Actually she tried to strangle you then, but she was kind enough as time went on. She was the one who stitched your dress, and had cleared out the old attic to become your bedroom. Hell, sometimes she would even ease your fevers, and would make you thick syrups that would take away the persistent cough you’d gotten since falling into the Underground.

So yes, dying via Toriel’s terrible snail soup was the best way to go.

You poked at the floating snails, frowning when one actually squealed, and tried to swim away from the wooden spoon. “Toriel, how long did you cook these?”

The woman didn’t look up from her bowl, spooning some of the murky liquid into her maw. After she chewed and swallowed, she deigned to answer you. “I decided to try a new, to you at least, recipe that I had stashed away. It requires fresh snails, thyme, and just a pinch of milkweed. Unfortunately, milkweed hasn’t grown on this side of the ruins in a very long time, so I substituted it with almond milk.” She pushed over a porcelain salt shaker in the shape of a dog. “This might help bring out some of the other flavors.”

You doused your meal in salt, more to kill the snails than actually help your food taste better. As you ate your meal, the partially blind goat told you about her day in the ruins. The finer art of froggit dissecting, how good the black flowers looked in the garden, and that the moon was high again. “Is it still white?”

She paused, eyes narrowed as she stared at you. “No, it has changed to its red coloration. Is that important to you?”

“N-no.” You assured. “I was just curious.”

She hummed, but her eyes remained on you, a frown marring her face. You remember that look, she had it the last time that she locked you up in your room. The subject was quickly changed on your studies, she insisted on teaching you the fine points of Monster history, magic theory, and cooking. The two of you chatted for a long while, Toriel trying to help you understand a peace treaty between Monsters and the Romans, and the bowls of soup all but forgotten. For a minute this felt like a normal setting, a place that you would have enjoyed to hang out at back on the surface. They were old buildings, libraries you think they were called, and were technically off limits.

Yes, Toriel and her home reminded you of a library. In movies they were shown to be places of learning, where you could find out anything you wanted to know. Granted, the people running the library didn’t try to kill you depending on their mood, or would feed you questionable soups and pies. But that was okay in Toriel’s case, she was a special kind of person, and despite all the shit she had put you through, you were grateful for her regardless.

As the conversation continued, the light from the fire started to dim. The bright pink flames popped and sputtered, until they were nothing but low embers. Your shadows danced along the walls, and you could hear the moans from the rock walls just outside the house. Occasionally there was a wet scream, but it would be silenced as soon as it began. Suddenly Toriel stood up, towering over you, hands folded in front of her. “I’ll prepare the dishes for washing. Go upstairs and bathe before going to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You stood up yourself and made your way to the stairs. As you passed Toriel, a rough hand pat your head, the claws lightly scraping against your scalp, opening old wounds that would need to be washed. “Sleep well, young one.”

* * *

You had never been fond of being alone. Even though Toriel wasn’t the most stable person alive, it was better than being alone in such a large house. You played with your beat up lantern, staring out the downstairs window. Toriel always made rounds of her ruins, partly to find food and fallen humans, and partly to ensure that none of the Monsters encroached on her territory. Everyday she said she had to add more magic to her borders, to assert her claim on the land, or else the other Monsters would technically be allowed to wander onto it without consequence. It almost sounded like the light perimeters most humans had around their property. It helped keep the zombies from just wandering into places where they would be a problem.

Speaking of light perimeter…

You pushed yourself off the the wooden floor, and made your way to the fire place. The magical fire was far more convenient than oil or a match and some sticks. It glowed brighter and further than a normal flame, and it didn’t belch out smoke either. Granted, it did smell like blood and tears, but that didn’t sting your eyes in confined spaces, or threaten to give you away around the necromancers.

You knelt down, and opened up your lantern, and put it down in the fire. The pink flames felt warm, like clothes fresh off the laundry line after a hot summer day, but they didn’t bite into your skin and burn. You had seen Toriel fall asleep with her feet in the fire once, and it had scared the hell out of you. It ended up scaring her too, since you ended up screaming, startling her awake. That was the day when she insisted you learned magic theory, and had gone through the trouble of cleaning out her closet to find the old tomes.

The flames siphoned into the glass lantern, becoming a tiny flame that could help illuminate an entire room. You carefully plucked it up, by the warped metal handle, and made your way back to the dining room. There were books spread out everywhere, and a few pencils and pens as well. At some point Toriel had picked you up a few notebooks, but you weren’t sure where she had even gotten them from. Upon asking she had shushed you, and said you ought to be grateful for such a gift.

In reality you were sure she had gotten them from beyond the door.

Downstairs and past a long cavern there was a door. It had an emblem similar to the faded one on Toriel’s dress. You had seen it only once, and that was because you had heard something knocking in the middle of the night. Upon investigating you had found a door that smelled like pine and was cold to the touch. Lingering wasn’t an option, not when you could hear screaming from the other side, and could smell blood that didn’t come from Toriel’s flames. You had went back upstairs, wrapped yourself in a blanket, and didn’t ever bring it up to your protector.

You flipped open the first volume of Monster history, and began reading the assigned section, something about Monsters and the influence on Roman religious practices. As you read about the Monster side of something you had studied a long time ago, your mind began to wander, paying more attention to your lantern, the little flame, and the shadows that danced along the walls thanks to it. That attention soon turned to a sleepy haze, the warm kind that reminded you of winter days bundled up with your training mates, listening to the radio and chatting together in the bunker.

**_Bam_ **

 

**_Bam_ **

 

**_Bam_ **

Adrenaline shot through your body, your spine straightened, and you reached for a gun that wasn’t on your hip. A bitter curse slipped from your lips, and you pushed yourself off the chair, hopping down onto the cold wood floor. Soft footsteps gave away the only sign that you were there, your weight balanced so you didn’t upset the floorboards and make them groan, your own breath measured. The light your flame cast helped illuminate your way the further from the safety of the fireplace that you got.

**_Dark_ **

 

**_Darker_ **

 

**_Yet darker still_ **

At one point you had training in the dark. That the things that bumped in the night, that got past the electric lights and lanterns could be killed with daggers and guns. That the things that lurked just on the peripheral of your vision were not to be feared, but were to be killed and examined. They had a weakness, just like anything else that dwelled in the safety of the compounds, and within the light.

That wasn’t true when you fell down.

You held your lantern high, and watched as the shadows fled to their corners, glaring at you from morphed and twisted eyes. The warmth and smell of cinnamon began to ebb away the further down the stairs you got. In turn it was replaced with the sharp scent of pine and cold, with a hint of something metallic and thick that wasn’t blood but was close enough. When your feet hit the last stair, you heard the rustle of something scraping against the ground, and bright yellow eyes peering at you from the dark.

**_BAM_ **

**_  
_ ** **_BAM_ ** **_  
_ ** **_  
_ ** ******_BAM_**

You froze, eyes wide, and heart beating a mile a minute. Last time you had only heard the knocking three times. Was there something important happening? Did the person on the other side need Toriel? You were sure the woman would mention something about having friends, she was always mentioning how lonely it was before you came. Even saying that she had considered not killing you that first time she attempted to, because that would mean she would have someone to talk to and interact with.

**_BAM_ **

 

**_BAM_ **

 

**_BAM_ **

Your heart is so heavy, why is it suddenly heavy? You rub at your sternum with your free hand, getting steadily closer to the door.

**_BAM_ **

 

**_BAM_ **

 

**_BAM_ **

You could feel the cold now. It caressed your arms, causing goosebumps to pebble along your skin. Your breath came out in small clouds, and it fogged your glasses, making it harder to see. Your chest was still hurting now, burning if you were being honest, as if someone had set it on fire. Your fingers dug into the fabric of your dress, your nails ripping through it, and blood beading along the gray fabric. You could see the shadows on the edge of your vision, they laughed at your troubles, urging you to drop your lantern.

**_BAM_ **

 

**_BAM_ **

**_  
_ ** **_  
_ _BAM_**

You could hear a shrill scream. Did it come from your own lips? Why did you taste blood and ash? The world began to spin, and you felt pain explode in your head. A crash and glass tinkling roared in your ears, and the flames sparked for several moments before dying. The darkness swarmed, the shadows laughing in glee, edging closer and closer to your prone form.

**_BAM_ **

 

**_BAM_ **

 

 **_  
_ ** **_BAM_ **

 

**_Thunk...._ **

 

**_Creak_ **

“Time for the feast to begin~!”

**Author's Note:**

> Yup, that Undertomb thing I was talking about on Tumblr. I honestly loved writing Toriel, she was plenty of fun. She's just so...off. Reader is slowly getting her own style, ever so slowly. I'm actually kinda excited to delve more into both her world and the Underground. Both are a mess. 
> 
> Know what isn't a mess? My tumblr! http://nihilismpastry.tumblr.com/


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